Lustopia

Becky thought for a while and then said softly, "No, that's not necessary. I think there might be another way".

Chapter 7 - Planning

Sir Stephen's phone rang. "Hmm...unknown caller", he mused. He took the call.

"Hello Sir Stephen, this is Becky."

"Oh, Hello Becky!"

"I hope you don't mind me phoning you?"

"Not at all Becky, what can I do for you?"

"I'd just like to know how you felt yesterday went?", she said softly.

Sir Stephen smiled and sank back on his couch, phone to ear. He opened his silk dressing gown and started to rub his cock while he chatted.

"Well...it was satisfactory."

"Satisfactory?"

"Yes, I enjoyed it well enough, but think you are capable of so much more."

Becky paused before asking, "What more do you want?"

"Oh, I think you have more to give."

"Please explain?"

"Well, Becky, you have acting talent, and a delectable body, the perfect combination. Thinking of you now is making my cock hard. He started to stroke and breathe harder while pushing the phone closer to his ear.

"Can you come over?"

Becky waited for a moment, then asked, "Where are you?"

"Regency Hotel, Room 509."

"I'll be there in 30 minutes."

She hung up.

"You're out of your fucking mind!" said Shay

"You're not my advisor anymore," snapped Becky, "I'll do this my way."

Shay shrugged and said nothing. As she grabbed her leopard skin coat and left the room he called out, "If I don't hear from you in an hour, I'll send the recording to the press."

"Whatever."

Chapter 8 - Hornet's Nest

Becky approached the Regency Hotel. At the reception desk, she asked for directions to room 509.

She took the lift to level 5 and knocked on the door.

Sir Stephen opened it smiling, wearing a silk robe, a glass of champagne in his hand.

"Come in my dear."

Becky entered the lavish room and turned to face him.

"Drink?" he asked.

"No thanks."

"Really?"

"I don't drink when I'm here on business."

Sir Stephen, looking disappointed, said, "Business, Becky? And what is your business?"

"To see that you never have any power of recruitment to the R.S.A. in future."

"Ah, you've come to me as an avenging angel. How delightful! How do you plan to bring me down?"

He moved over to her to stand directly in front of her. His eyes were a colder, inkier blue and piercing.

She suddenly felt very vulnerable. Lowering her eyes, she mumbled,

"What you did to me."

"And what was that exactly, my dear?"

"You know what you did."

Sir Stephen looked her up and down. He leant over to her and whispered in her ear.

"I watched you cum several times. If you didn't enjoy it, what the fuck are you doing here? You're here for me now because you want me to fuck you again, admit it!"

Becky stood stock still.

He slowly ran his hand over her face, his thumb caressed her lips and then pushed probing into her mouth.

He started to move it rhythmically in and out. His free hand then slid under her dress, deftly pulled her knickers aside and started to stroke her pubic mound. Becky closed her eyes and leant her neck back as his fat fingers entered her pussy.

Becky slowly opened her eyes wide and straightened up, regaining her composure.

Tightening the muscles in her jaw with a snap, she bit down as hard as she could on his thumb until her mouth filled up with his thick warm blood.

His face froze in surprise,pain and shock as he pulled his hand clear. As he did so, a fountain of blood cascaded from the near severed thumb. He let out a grotesque, long moan.

Becky didn't wait for his next reaction. She remembered the brawler tricks her brother had showed her and kicked him as hard as she could between the legs. It was a kick loaded with street violence and instantly bent him in two. He cried out and collapsed on his side floundering. She kicked him hard again, and he doubled up, rubbing his groin, while trying to nurse his thumb at the same time. Thinking back to the previous night, she kicked him one more time in his swollen stomach.

"You sick fuck!" she spat.

Sir Stephen was completely broken, crouched in the fetal position and nursing his badly damaged hand.

Becky simmered to remorse. She wasn't there to drop to his level. She threw him a small white towel from the bathroom which he desperately wrapped around the damaged thumb.

She took the recorder out of her bag and pressed the play button. Sir Stephen was preoccupied with his injuries, but he was a clever man and knew exactly what the recording could do to his personal freedom. When the damning part of the recording was over, Sir Stephen gave a resigned look and, still staunching the blood, closed his eyes.

Becky clicked the machine off and said softly, "This is what you have to do."

"Go to the A&E department and get that thumb fixed."

"Then, resign from the R.S.A. selection panel."

"Then, tell your grey men the party is over."

"Never go near the R.S.A. again. Oh, and if you're thinking you or your goons could take this recording off me, don't be surprised that it's one of many. If anything happens to me, another copy goes straight to the press."

"Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Sir Stephen, injured and whimpering, looked at her and suddenly snarled, "Yes, yes, you utter bitch!"

Mimicking him, she said,

"Good, good, we have an understanding."

She left the room.

Chapter 9 -- Journey Home

Sitting in the first-class train compartment leaving the city, Becky looked out of the window with an altogether darker mood. Shay sat opposite, no longer the inspirational motivator who took her to London.

She glanced at him. He was staring at the ground with a lost look on his face. There were other passengers in the compartment and that didn't encourage plain speaking, but Becky didn't really feel in her heart that he was responsible for what had happened at the audition.

She whispered, "Cheer up, Shay, we may have made life easier for future R.S.A. applicants."

Shay looked up, "Hmm, time will tell. Something tells me no-one will dare reject your application now".

"I'd like to have done it purely on merit, judged by honest people".

"Yes, so would I, and I'm sure you would have. Too many people like Sir Stephen Soames are more interested in personal power and domination than promoting the arts."

A well-dressed elderly lady in an adjacent seat put down her Daily Mail, and bent her ear to hear more.

The old lady bent over to Becky and whispered, "R.S.A.?"

"Yes", said Becky,"2019 entrant"

"1969 entrant here", said the old woman smiling, but hey, what's 50 years!"

Shay and Becky smiled at her.

"Did I hear you mention Sir Stephen Soames?"

Becky said, "Why yes, we were discussing him."

"I was his father's friend, Sir Randolph Soames. A powerful man, he was hard to say no to if you know what I mean. He was a real charmer, but he nearly destroyed my clitoris."

The old lady sat back in her seat, looked to the heavens, closed her eyes and smiled.

Becky and Shay looked at each other, and simultaneously, their eyebrows raised and their jaws dropped.

FIN

Many thanks to BB for the inspiration for this story. Two elements of this story are actually true. Message me with your suggestions/guesses what they might be and let me know if you want a sequel. Thanks, Bushwhackerman